


Zone Sand and Stardust

by silver-shock (DrowningInStarlight)



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Multi, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:17:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrowningInStarlight/pseuds/silver-shock
Summary: In which Dr Death Defying hosts a party, Fun Ghoul struggles to deal with emotions, and Show Pony is just too cool for all of us.





	Zone Sand and Stardust

**Author's Note:**

> This is, as always, nothing to do with the actual real life band members, it's completely based on the fictional danger days universe :)

Killjoys don't congregate often. Large groups, planned meeting places, you're practically begging Dracs to come and massacre you. You bait the Dracs on their home turf, not invite them onto yours, it's not worth the risk.

Even Dracs aside, everyone knew large groups meant trouble. Sure, people would show up when word of a Mad Gear gig passed through the Zones, but everyone was guarded and ready for trouble-- _expecting_ it, guns close, fists tightened. On those occasions, it's part of the appeal. But, in general: you don't survive in the desert by trusting people, not even other 'joys. Sometimes, especially not other 'joys. 

Tonight, though, Zonerunners had shown up from all over. It had barely taken five minutes and a container of petrol for huge bonfires to be lit, arranged in a wide circle and constantly being built higher. There was already a group of 'joys sitting on the roof of Dr D's rusty old truck-- because _of course_ Dr D was behind this. He'd sent Show Pony round to the diner to invite the Fab Four, but Ghoul had no idea how he'd managed to get everyone else. Word spreads fast in the desert, sure, but not that fast. 

When they'd arrived there'd already been a small fleet of cars and bikes parked up top of the cliff, ready in case the Dracs decided to show. It was hidden from where Ghoul was standing, but he guessed there must be twice as many by now. 

He took another step back, further into the shadow of the cliff. He had one of Kobra's shitty energy drinks in his hand-- he didn't know whether the Kid had intended him to drink it or just watch it, but he was drinking it anyway, wincing at the acidic sweetness. He hadn't seen where Kobra had gone after he'd shoved the can into Ghoul's hand, but he could guess. Cheating at cards was something both Poison and Kobra had a knack for, and Ghoul knew that accepting Dr D's invitation hadn't been without ulterior motive. 

He shifted his boots against the sand. Thing was... It hadn't been _all_ ulterior motive. Well, it had on Ghoul's part, but the others? Not so much. 

 

"Maybe it's his birthday or something," Kobra had suggested. 

"Nah," Poison said, not looking up from cleaning his gun. "Dr Death, acknowledgin' the passage of time? Ain't likely." 

Kobra shrugged, kicked his feet up over the arm of the chair. They'd been chilling just inside the diner, sheltered from the wind, when Show Pony had skated in. "Maybe it's, I dunno, Cherri Cola's birthday or something, then. There might be cake." 

"More likely Doc wants a particularly shitty job done and thinks he can get people to do it by getting 'em pissed," Jet said. "He's pulled that one before." 

Party Poison looked up at Show Pony, squinting against the sun shining in through the open door behind them. "Got any ideas? Dr D likes you, might tell you somethin'." 

"Wouldn't tell it you horrible lot even if he did," Pony said easily. 

"Hey," Ghoul said. "We're a _delight._ " 

"You tell 'em, Ghoulie," Party murmured, leaning down to snag Jet's drink off the floor. Jet made a vague sound of protest, but otherwise didn't react. They were all used to Poison being Poison. 

"Well," Show Pony said, "You coming or what, boys? Gotta have something to tell the Doc." 

Ghoul shook his head at the same moment Poison shrugged. 

They looked at each other. 

Poison spoke first. "We might," he said non-committally. 

"It's gonna be a death-trap," Ghoul said. "C'mon, Party, Dr D probably just wants someone to do a city run for him or somethin'." 

They were all silent for a moment, then Jet looked at Poison. "Might be able to trade some of the shit we've got out back," he said mildly. 

"Been a while since we've checked out who's been dusted and who's still breathin'," Kobra said. "Could be useful to know." 

That's what they were saying, practical, useful reasons, but Ghoul only had to take one look at their faces to know there was more to it than that. Time was weird and largely irrelevant to the Zones, but they'd been running together for a long time, now. You don't spend that much time that close to people without learning to read them pretty damn well. 

Kobra looked carefully excited, Jet was focused and curious. There was sharp interest on Party's face, and Ghoul was an asshole, without a doubt, but if there was one thing he wanted in this dry, dusty world it was these three guys to be happy. 

_This isn't going to end well._ He took a deep breath, and shut his mouth.

The silence had stretched on for just a little too long, and Pony clapped their hands together. "Right then! I'll tell Dr D you're still debating. Three nights time, under the Broken Star cliff. The Doc's truck'll be there, can't miss it. Ghoul, walk me back to Route Guano, wouldja?" 

Ghoul rolled his eyes. They all knew damn well Show Pony didn't need walking anywhere. No, this meant they had something to say. 

"Fine."

 

__ 

 

It barely took a minute to reach the edge of the dusty tarmac road, and when they reached it, Show Pony turned and grabbed Ghoul's arm. 

"You know they want to go, right?" they said. 

"Yeah. I _know_." 

"Well?" 

"Well what, Show Pony? I ain't stopping 'em from doin' anythin' they want too. Couldn't if I wanted too, and I don't." 

"You don't want them to go, though, do you?" Show Pony said, and _Destroya_ , Ghoul hated their weird flashes of perception. Their face was knowing, and Ghoul knew where this was going. 

"It's dangerous, meetin' up like that," he said, nudging a stone with his boot. "Dracs'll find out." 

"So what?" They let go of Ghoul's arm, kicked out onto the tarmac. "I know you ain't scared of a coupla' Dracs. What are you scared of, Fun Ghoul? Think Party and the lot are gonna cut and run the moment they see a shiny new gang?" 

"Fuck off," Ghoul told them, and they raised their eyebrows. 

"Oh, so that _is_ it? You're a fucking idiot, Ghoul, if you really think--" 

"I _said_ \--" 

Show Pony rolled their eyes. "All right, all right. Talk to them. Tell them I said you're stupid." 

Ghoul was already walking away.

 

__ 

 

Looking round, he could see just plenty of ulterior motive in everyone. It wasn't like 'joys never got together to trade shit, in fact Tommy Chow Mein's Swap'n'Steal events were practically monthly, but people still took every opportunity they could get. And Tommy Chow Mein never managed to gather as many 'joys as were here, he had too much of a reputation.

To Ghoul's left, Show Pony was audibly bartering with another 'joy, though he noticed they carefully didn't mention exactly what they were putting a price on. He pointedly avoided eye contact. People were standing around, like he was, but they were talking-- forming alliances and trading information. 

Ghoul could see Jet-Star talking seriously with a group covered in engine oil and fresh injuries, scribbling whatever they were telling him on his wrist in neon pen. He could imagine what Jet'd say later, when the party had finally dispersed and they were back on the road. 

 

"Dracs been seen throughout Zone 3, 'cording to that bunch I was talkin' to last night. We gonna steer clear, or...?" He'd lean forward and rest his elbow on the back of Poison's seat. Ghoul could see the movement so clearly in his head. Poison would shrug, glance at Jet in the mirror. 

"We could," he'd note, and he'd start to grin, slowly, slowly. "Or... we could do some cool shit. Whaddya' say, Jet?" 

"Sure thing," Jet would reply, nonchalantly. Ghoul knew that all Jet had to do was say the word, and Poison would drop it and suggest some other plan, but Jet never did. That was just the way things worked. Sometimes Kobra would disagree, want to go and hack a vending machine or something instead, and they'd all bicker about it as they broke and doubled the speed limit all through Zone 5.

Ghoul never really argued, not about that, not with Poison. He could, he supposed, and sometimes he did wonder if Poison would listen to him the way he always did with Jet. But honestly, he was happier not knowing, because he couldn't decide what was worse-- Party Poison not trusting him enough to listen to him, or Party Poison _trusting_ him. He wasn't a good person to trust, and he knew it. Too inclined to self-destruction and explosives. He wanted to believe that Poison knew that, knew _better_ , but one of the first things you're taught out in the Zones is _if you can't handle the answer don't ask the question._ Fun Ghoul never breathed a word. 

 

Dr D was nowhere to be seen. That meant this party was a distraction, something to draw the dracs' attention from whatever Dr D was really up to. He sighed, finished Kobra's drink, and stamped the can flat. A couple of people glanced up at the noise, and Ghoul noted them down in his head as the jumpy ones, the way he would in a fight, assessing people's weaknesses. He hated gatherings like these. They felt like an active bomb, timer tick, tick, ticking. Normally, Ghoul was all about explosives, but not when they had Kobra, Jet and Party tucked away inside them. 

Except that was it. Maybe it wasn't about the danger at all, maybe he just couldn't stop thinking about the way all three of them seemed happy here, under the dusty gold sky.

Kobra had reappeared, picking his way through the bonfires, searching for another game to cheat at. Ghoul doubted anyone else would have noticed, but he knew the expression Kobra wore when he'd been winning. He looked younger in the firelight, and he was laughing as he sat down at a fire and was eagerly dealt a hand of cards. Ghoul didn't see him laugh very often. The Kid was known for getting quiet, and staying that way for hours and hours, eyes as blank as the fucking logo on their supply of Power Pup. People were often confused by him, with his unhesitant bluntness and strange wisdom. Ghoul reckoned he would have been a genius in another life, not that he ever would have told the Kid that. 

But as Ghoul watched, more people started to crowd round to watch the game, cheering Kobra on. He seemed safe and happy, so Ghoul continued scanning the crowd for his other companions. 

Jet Star was drinking with the same group he'd been talking too earlier, but now all the seriousness was gone from their faces. Everyone cheered as Jet and a purple haired woman each drank from cracked plastic bottles, and Ghoul knew from personal experience that if they were trying to out drink the one and only Jet Star then they would be the ones to hit the ground first. Jet was normally so full of silent self-loathing, unresting and driven, but now he looked proud of himself. Confident, as he raised the bottle to his lips again. 

And Party Poison... 

Ghoul had never asked the origins of Poison's name. He never would, either, that wasn't a question you could ask. Names were a story to be told and so far Poison had never offered to tell it. But at that moment, he would admit that he was curious. Party Poison. It was a strange name for someone who brought the parties to life, zones-over.

He was standing surrounded by people, 'joys from all across the Zones, and even though he was standing too far away for Ghoul to hear what he was saying, he knew Party was telling stories. The way his face was lit up, his hands moving as he illustrated his story with gestures that Ghoul suspected he didn't even know he was making, it was unmistakable. Party was a lot of things, an older brother, a leader, a fighter, but underneath everything his life had forced him to be, he was a storyteller. He was born for an audience, always full of creativity he didn't know what to do with, and Ghoul understood why Battery City had been so suffocating for him that he'd run away at thirteen. 

Party made an explosion gesture, and everyone around him laughed. One clapped him on the back, and Party was glowing. Ghoul wished that him and Kobra and Jet could give him that look, wished that they could be enough so Party didn't go looking for danger the way he always did. Although maybe Ghoul wasn't in any place to be wishing that for other people, as he sought out danger like it was air and he was suffocating. 

 

The selfish part of him wanted them all to hate this like he did. To stand surly in the corner and leave as soon as possible, so they could get back to running and fighting and being alone, just the four of them. But Ghoul could see their faces, would never try to take this from them. He'd turn away and leave right now, go back to wandering the desert alone and wild like he had before Jet Star had found him, if he thought they'd be better off without him. Maybe they would. 

Party Poison was taking a drink that someone was offering, and as Ghoul watched he knocked it back in a way that rivalled Jet. He looked so alive under the fading sunset, all vivid colour, mockery and blood, speckled with zone sand and stardust. Ghoul wanted to look at him forever, and he would have made a decent start if someone hadn't put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Hey, dude!"

"What the fuck--" he began, turning, then saw it was Agent Cherri Cola. He was holding an array of drinks on a piece of scrap metal and looked like he had a number more inside him. "Oh. Hey Cola." 

"No need to sound so disappointed," Cherri said. "Just handing out these drinks, as instructed by our good ol' Dr D. Want one?" 

Ghoul glanced back across the sands to Party Poison. He was much better at dealing with people then Ghoul had ever been. Cherri wasn't a bad guy, he'd helped them out of various bad claps in the past, but boy was he chatty, especially went pissed enough that he couldn't hold his tray steady. 

"Go on!" he repeated. "Take one. Got all sorts, if you like stuff brewed from cactus and Drac tears. What's your poison, man?" 

"Funny you should ask," Ghoul muttered, not taking his eyes off Party. 

Maybe Party Poison could feel Ghoul's gaze, or maybe he just had _Cherri Cola is pissed and making people feel awkward_ radar, because he chose that moment to turn around.

Cherri saw him and called "Hey, Poison! Drinks!" 

He tried to take the tray over, but he knocked it a little too hard and brackish brown alcohol started dripping onto the sand. Poison came over to help, but Ghoul had had enough. 

He took a step backwards. 

Party glanced up at him for where he was kneeling, helping Cherri with the tray, but Ghoul just took another step back. 

It was amazing how once he'd started to leave, there was nothing in the world that would have made him stop. It was like he'd burst the dam, and suddenly he had zero hesitations about turning to run. 

 

__

 

There was an old diner that sat on the road leading up to the Broken Star cliff, and Ghoul headed there. It looked similar to the one he often lived out of, but this one clearly hadn't been inhabited for years. The windows were all boarded up, the door swinging lazily off broken hinges. 

He'd almost gone and sat in the Trans Am, but it was parked with the other cars and bikes and he just hadn't wanted to see anyone else. He knew that Party would probably come after him, but he also knew that Party would probably know where to look for him, too, so he'd climbed up onto the roof of the old diner and swung his legs off the edge.

It was colder here, away from the bonfires, the air still smelling of smoke. It was quieter, too, the noises of the party drifting up distantly from the base of the cliff. The sky seemed like it went on forever, timeless and borderless, fading from the muted gold it had been earlier to a cool blue-grey. Ghoul let it sooth his feverish mind. 

It didn't take long for Party Poison to join him. The other killjoy climbed up on the roof and sat down next to him, shoulder to shoulder, without saying a word. That was something Ghoul liked about Party. He didn't push, and his silences were comfortable. They both stared at the horizon wordlessly for a while. Ghoul quietly shuffled closer, craving the warmth Poison provided. 

"The others?" Ghoul asked at last. He knew that if Party had come after him, he wouldn't have left without letting Jet know, and when Jet told Kobra, he'd insist they went to find him and Party. That was just how it went. Ghoul sometimes found their familiar routines scary, painfully aware that this couldn't last forever, that their luck would run out one day. How would the remaining carry on if they'd become dependant on people who would never be there again? But just then, he found it comforting, the familiarity soft instead of a promise of future tragedy. 

"They're comin'," Party said. "Jet went to dig out Kobra before he draws too much attention to himself and gets caught." 

It was an excuse, and they both knew it. 

"You were enjoyin' yourself," Ghoul said. "You didn't have to come after me." 

"Yeah, I did," Party told him calmly. "I know you hate being forced to speak to, well, basically any member of the human race." 

"You don't, though. You like it. You should have seen the way those 'joys were hangin' on your every word. I dunno what tale you were spinnin' them, but it must have been a damn good one." 

"Don't really remember, to be honest," Party said, carelessly. "Just tryin' to not get fuckin' slaughtered by a bunch of drunk 'joys." 

"Stop it." 

"What?" 

"Stop the... pretending you don't like it thing. It's fuckin' fine. You like this shit, I don't, that's why you're Party Poison and I'm Fun Ghoul and this group works the way it does. You didn't need to come after me." 

"You need to stop _that,_ " Party said. "I do like 'em all listenin' to me like I'm the fuckin' Phoenix Witch instead of just some 'joy with a knack of makin' it all sound excitin'. But it's not... It's not real, okay?" 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"It's just not _real_!" Party said, raising his hands in frustration. "I'm just tellin' a story. They don't know me, probably won't remember me in two days time. I damn well won't remember them. But you, and the other guys, you know me. The other 'joys aren't important. God fucking dammit, Fun Ghoul, what's important is _this_. It's us, and Kobra and Jet, and the fact that somehow we're still alive and together. This, all this?" he gestured towards the cliff's edge. "This is nothing." 

"Well, now you're just gettin' soppy," Ghoul said. Party elbowed him.

"Don't pretend you weren't gettin' all miserable 'bout it," he said. "I know that look on you."

Ghoul just stared at him.

"Okay, _fine_ , Show Pony told me you were being a fuckin' idiot," Party admitted, and Ghoul elbowed him back. 

"I'm gonna kill Pony," he muttered. 

"What, 'cause they were right?" 

"Shut up." 

They let the silence flow back around them. Ghoul leant back a little and put his arm around Poison's shoulders. "Thanks," he said quietly. 

Party Poison gave him the grace of not acknowledging his acceptance. They were still sitting like that when Jet Star and Kobra Kid clambered up onto the roof behind them. They didn't comment-- this was hardly unusual-- and Kobra immediately went and sat on Party's other side. Jet sat next to Ghoul, touched his shoulder. 

"You okay?" he asked. Ghoul just nodded, adjusted his grip around Party's shoulders. They'd probably discuss it in the morning, or maybe they wouldn't, and either way Fun Ghoul couldn't bring himself to care.


End file.
